


Eyes closed, head first, can't lose

by sevdepayne



Series: He's a Keeper [2]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Crack, Goalkeepers, Idiots, M/M, flirting without exchanging numbers, how the hell they managed to do so, no one has any idea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-01-26 18:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21378469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevdepayne/pseuds/sevdepayne
Summary: "Ha ha, you’re so funny. We don’t keep in touch that way. We just see each other around the city and decide to catch up on the spot.”Julian looks like he’s trying to make sense of all in his head, and failing to comprehend the logic behind his friend and his new rival-with-benefits’ weird methods at courtship."Julian Brandt finds out that his idiot friend doesn't have the phone number of a certain Spaniard he fancies and decides to do something about it. Of course, with the help of his better half, Kai Havertz.Or, three times Julian Brandt tried to find Kepa Arrizabalaga's phone number to surprise Bernd, and one time the phone number they were looking for was under their nose the whole time.
Relationships: Julian Brandt/Kai Havertz, Kepa Arrizabalaga/Bernd Leno
Series: He's a Keeper [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543975
Comments: 24
Kudos: 55





	1. crisis detected

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the fic only like 5 people were waiting for! 
> 
> This fic is basically the follow-up on [ my first Kepa/Bernd fic ](archiveofourown.org/works/19757173) that I've wrote many many moons ago. I don't know when I will update this, but I think it'd be pretty soon compared with my other works.
> 
> Title from [ Brooklyn 99.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WVIGAD5Kb70)
> 
> Enjoy!

Bernd is in a deep slumber when Julian FaceTimes him in the middle of the night, kind of scaring him that someone might have died, or worse.

“Dude, how come your new pet keeper managed to score an own goal with his face? I had no idea that it was actually, physically possible?” is the first sentence that leaves his best friend’s mouth, without even a proper hello or anything else that normal people would say when their call is connected. 

It takes Bernd a full minute to understand what Jule has said, and another thirty seconds to remember how to form a sentence. “What are you talking about? Barcelona didn’t concede any goals today.”

Someone behind Jule lets out a loud “Oooooooooo,” which indicates two things: a, his dumbass friend is not alone and refuses to wear headphones during a very private call, and b, he just screwed up massively.

“Who was it, and where are you?” asks Bernd, while trying to sit up straight so that he won’t fall back asleep. Julian may not have a phone etiquette befitting to an adult, but Bernd Leno is cultivated enough to stay awake during a conversation.

Julian looks extremely pleased with the situation, the same expression he has on his face whenever there’s any sort of drama going on. “Sorry, it was Mats. I was on the escalator, we’ll board our plane in half an hour or so.”

“Put on your airpods for god’s sake, then.”

“Yeah, sorry,” says Julian while trying to find his airpods, and based on past experiences, Bernd is well aware that this can take up to three minutes, more if the midfielder tossed them in his backpack randomly.

He faintly hears someone saying “Here kid, take mine instead,” and sees a pair of hands putting an airpod on both of Julian’s ears. 

“Huh, I’m back, bro,” says Julian. “Sorry. Couldn’t find mine so Marco gave me his.”

Bernd definitely would’ve made an extremely snarky comment on how Julian is now Marco’s adopted son, but the fact that it's the middle of the night and he’s just woken up abruptly makes him pass the opportunity. 

It’s not that he’d never get another chance at mocking Jule about the same subject. On the contrary, Bernd’s confident that in less than 24 hours, the opportunity will present itself again.

From what he can see on the screen, Julian is trying to make himself comfortable on the airport’s floor, which gives Bernd a window of silence to wash his face to wake up completely.

“Anyways,” says Julian all of a sudden, causing him to startle a bit. “I was talking about your new pet keeper, the Spanish one. Also, the fact that you thought I meant Marc is a huge problem, but I’m not gonna deal with it over facetime in the middle of the night. We’ll discuss this during the IB.”

“He’s not my pet, we only had coffee once and then ran into each other on two separate occasions. That’s all.”

Julian raises an eyebrow at him, definitely not convinced that that was all. 

“And how would you describe all those three events? Colleagues casually hanging out randomly or two dumbasses flirting intensely and then pretending that they don’t wanna fuck each other in a bathroom stall?”

“Hey,” yells the keeper, causing a bang from the other side of the wall. He tries to remember who occupy that room, but can’t quite remember. It can be Hecky, because he definitely saw Hecky going into that room. But it can be Dani as well, he vaguely remembers the coach saying that Dani will be in that room. 

“What?? I’m right and you know it.”

Of course Julian is right, and of course, Bernd is aware of it, and he also has been aware of how intense things are with Kepa. However, the last thing he wants is to satisfy Jule’s constant need for being right. He definitely wouldn’t hear the end of it, and worse, Kai would kill him if Jule walks around like a smug piece of shit the next couple of days.

“Show your elders some respect, Jule. Or else I’m going to talk to your fathers and you will lose your one-hour of TV before bedtime privileges.”

As suspected, in less than 24 hours. 

His comment earns him an eye-roll, which has zero impact on Bernd after all these years of being friends with the midfielder.   
“Shut up, idiot. Don’t try to change the subject. Have you called him yet? He looked pretty down at the end of the game.”

“No, I didn’t,” he answers. “We were on the way to the hotel when they were playing, and I went to bed straight away. Also, I don’t have his number.”

Julian let out a squeak so high-pitched that causes someone from his squad to throw him an old magazine that hit him straight on the head.

“Hold on, hold on, THIS IS IMPORTANT!” the Dortmunder yells at someone, probably the anonymous magazine-thrower. “THIS IS SO IMPORTANT, OH MY GOD! Guys, don’t interrupt me for a while. Oh. My. God.”

There are a few different voices saying things in response that Bernd can’t figure out, and Julian makes elaborate hand gestures to shush them in return. After a while, his friend gets up from where he’s seated and enters a dimly lit room, which seems like an abandoned supply closet that Julian is not permitted to go in. 

“Okay, oh my god. How is this possible? How on earth you don’t have his number?”

Bernd shrugs as a response, not exaggerating the situation as his friend does. Of course, he’s aware that not having each others’ number is kind of weird, especially after three quality dates that were could not count as dating, plus seven kisses during certain points of two of those said "dates". However, he never pondered over the fact that they didn’t exchange numbers since they always run into each other monthly. 

“You’re unbelievable. You both are! How do you communicate, on Insta DM?”

“We are not following each other on Instagram.”

“Then, how? Do you write letters to each other every week?” asks Julian, his voice is somewhere between mocking and asking it for real.

“Ha ha, you’re so funny. We don’t keep in touch that way. We just see each other around the city and decide to catch up on the spot.”

Julian looks like he’s trying to make sense of all in his head, and failing to comprehend the logic behind his friend and his new rival-with-benefits’ weird methods at courtship. 

“You could’ve asked his number from one of your teammates, dude. That Spanish guy, Bellerin. I bet he has Kepa’s number.”

“I can’t ask Hecky. If I ask him then Dani will know, and of course, Rob and Cal will figure it out instantly. And if Rob and Cal know something, then it means that the entire team knows it.”

“Okay, then Bellerin is out. That curly guy came from Chelsea, right? Ask him then.”

It takes Bernd longer than necessary to figure out which curly guy Julian is talking about. “David Luiz? No way, I’m not that close to him.”

“Then there must be another way, Bernd. You can’t keep flirting like this, it’d take you years to get married and have a bunch of beautiful, temperamental, goalkeeping children. I wanna be uncle Jule in less than five years, have some respect.”

On one hand, his friend’s insistence makes him only entertained. On the other hand, however, Julian’s implication regarding a future with the Spanish keeper causes a tiny but undeniable somersault in his stomach, and based on his previous experiences, this somersault means trouble at all times. 

“Okay, jeez. I’ll get his number when I see him next time. I promise,” says Bernd, not as a vain promise to shut Julian up, as a sincere intention to fulfill soon. “I gotta go, dude. Gameday tomorrow, have to sleep properly.”

Julian quickly waves at him and says his goodnights, a bit hurried than normal to end the call. Even though it’s weird for Julian to stop talking immediately, Bernd doesn’t realize it. Partly because it is the middle of the night and has been sleeping fifteen minutes ago, and partly because he’s preoccupied with a certain keeper.

Just before falling asleep he remembers to check how Kepa managed to score a goal on himself and makes a mental note to watch it the first thing in the morning.

***

**To KAI <3 (23:36)**: 

baaaaaabe wake up!!!!!!!  
we have an operation to plan!!  
we gotta find kepa arrizasomething something’s phone number  
and we gotta do it asap   
also bernd cannot know  
love youuuu 


	2. the things we do for love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE SURPRISE I'M NOT DEAD just having an existential crisis about basically everything and supposed to write a thesis but well, academia is overrated anyway so here's the new chapter.
> 
> Honestly, this was just half-finished for the last 5 months and have no idea if it's good or not. But enjoy, I guess, if you can.
> 
> Also this is unbeta-ed, soooo apologies for the mistakes in advance.

“Lenepa?”

“Sounds like a random word in French, try another one.”

“Arribaleno?”

“Nah, now it’s too Spanish. We are on Bernd’s side babe, remember? Pick something more in coordination with our culture and stuff .”

“Ugh, this is impossible,” frowns Julian. “How ‘bout… Kepaleno?”

Kai looks at the ceiling for a while, as if he’s retaking his final exams and having major issues with a certain math problem. “Well, I don’t hate it?”

For what it’s worth, Julian isn’t too satisfied with the name they came up with for their friend and his… whatever Kepa is for Bernd either. But it’s already 1 a.m. and he definitely is not known for his superior intelligence even during the normal human hours, and as much as he loves his boyfriend, he and Kai share the single brain cell they accumulated through the years. 

Well, Bernd and Kepa should actually be glad that they at least have a name now and they no longer will be referred to as “the dumbasses”. Given the situation they are in, it is way more than what those emotionally constipated goalkeeping robots deserve anyway.

Also, they _are _still the dumbasses, at least until they both get their act together and have their happily ever afters, but for the sake of their operation to get Kepa’s number, Jule and Kai had to come up with a name to make it more professional. 

Julian hears a tiny yawn from the other side of the phone, so tiny that anyone who’s not familiar with Kai’s sleepy baby kitten mood wouldn’t be able to notice. He decides to call it a night, they’ve done more planning than they are generally capable of doing anyway. 

“Babe, I think we should go to bed, you have a game tomorrow.”

“No, no, wait. Let’s go over the plan one more time first, then I’ll sleep.” 

“Hold on, lemme find the roadmap I drew,” says Jule, and without waiting for a reply, he tosses his phone on the right side of his bed to get up and look for the napkin he used to create their masterpiece. 

He distantly hears Kai’s voice saying that he should hurry up, but Jule has no idea to which direction he threw the napkin at some point. On the bright side, he at least finds his half-eaten Haribos somewhere by his duffel bag.

“I couldn’t find it, I’ll look for it more in the morning,” he says after two minutes of snooping around. “Anyways, I memorized the plan anyway. I’ll ask Mats the first thing in the morning and he probably has Kepa’s number so the operation will end in like three minutes or so.”

“What makes you so confident that he has his number? Do they even know each other?” asks Kai. Despite the fact that it sounded like a brilliant plan half an hour ago, he cannot help but start doubting their “fool-proof” plan after thinking about it for the second time.

“They’re both Adidas people, they’d know each other.”

Kai sighs but refrains himself from making further comments on how their plan solely relies on Mats Hummels’ contacts list. Instead, he decides to debate a second point. “What if he refuses to give the number? I mean, you can’t tell him why you want it, and if you tell Mats the truth, Bernd will definitely kill you and I’ll be a widow at my young age.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, baby. I’ll ask him when he’s with Marco. He can say no to me all he wants, but he can’t say no to Marco now, can he?”

The younger one lets out a laugh at his boyfriend’s interesting tactics to get what he wants. “Look at you, using your step-parents’ shaky relationship to your benefit. I’m proud of you, babe, really.”

“Shut up, they’re not my parents,” says Jule in protest, in a weak attempt to fend off the endless chirps. “Don’t you have a game to play tomorrow? Just go to sleep already dude, jeez.”

From the other end of the line, Julian can hear Kai huffing, reminding Jule a child refusing to go to bed when there’s school the next day. “Babe, go to sleep,” says Jule once more, this time with more compassion in his tone.

“Fine, I’ll sleep. Text me right after you talk with Mats, okay? We might have to use our back-up plans.”

“Not that we’ll need plan B, but okay, I’ll text you. Love you, baby. Good night!”

“I love you, too. Good luck tomorrow.”

***

Julian wakes up the moment he hears his alarm and gets out of the bed without wasting a second, a rare occasion considering that he loves to snuggle up against the covers for at least half an hour, just aimlessly going over his social media. However, he is aware that their meticulous plans would only be successful if he follows the plan step by step.

The first step of the said plan is to find Mats and Marco before the training grounds get too crowded. Thankfully, coming to the training way earlier than necessary has been a habit both of the captains acquired since the beginning of the season. Even though Julian teased them for acting as the school principles on multiple occasions, he is now extremely glad for the convenience of the situation.

To his defense, he never made fun of Marco for coming to the training at least an hour early. Marco argues that as the captain it is his duty to be there early to greet all of them and check whether everything is okay or not, and Julian kind of admires him for how he handles the captaincy. What Julian specifically made fun of was the way Mats started to come early too once he realized Marco’s pattern, and how the other captain used this to find his way back to the captain’s heart. 

He makes a mental note to thank Mats for being a lame, lovesick idiot once he successfully gets Kepa’s number, and hands it over to Bernd. But of course, he will do so not one second before their plan ends in ultimate success and Bernd Leno and Kepa Arrizasomething get their happily ever afters.

***

The second he walks into the canteen he mentally high-fives himself, because Marco and Mats are already there, sitting by the huge window Julian knows Marco likes to sit by and watch outside while eating. _ Like a 75-year-old, _he thinks for a moment, but he has to admit that the way Marco watches the birds fly by the window and Mats watching Marco with the softest look on his face is kind of adorable. 

Sickening and on Mats’ account, pathetic, but still adorable. 

He quickly grabs some oats and coffee for breakfast and makes a beeline towards the two captains, not wasting any precious minutes. He clears his throat to catch their attention and succeeds partially, failing to make Mats look away from Marco’s face like the loser he is.

“Morning guys! Mind if I take a seat?” asks Jule, pointing to the empty chair on the other side of the desk. Apparently Mats and Marco left it empty like a couple of psychos who prefer to sit side by side on a table for four.

The captains look at each other for a brief moment, raised eyebrows and confused expression and all. Still, Mats kicks the chair in front of him and gestures Jule to sit, kind of a rude way to invite someone to join them but Julian is fully aware that it’s Mats’ own way of being polite this early in the morning.

“Wait, is this actually happening?” asks Marco, the same expression still on his face. “Why are you here this early? The training won’t start until 10:30.”

Julian rolls his eyes at Marco but refrains from making a sarcastic remark that would eventually drop his chances of success. “Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugs nonchalantly as if every step he took that day to the training was not pre-planned beforehand. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Marco and Mats still staring at him, not exactly sure whether they should believe him or not. However, they refrain from making further comments on how the entire situation is ominous at best. Julian is fully aware that Marco will try to get him talking after training or on their way home, but for now, he is glad that Marco shuts Mats up with a not-so-subtle pinch on the arm before the defender can get into his full-interrogation mood.

If he were to follow his original plan, Julian would ask for Kepa’s phone number within the first five minutes of his arrival, while the entire cafeteria was still empty. But Kai warned him the previous night about how it’d look like he is up to something, so he decides to wait until a few more of their teammates to arrive. He has no idea how more people being around would make his actions less suspicious, but going with Kai’s suggestions when he’s in doubt has always been his go-to move since the first day they’ve met. 

According to the meticulous calculations he made, Kai usually has custody of their shared single brain cell most of the time, so it is always safer to go with his boyfriend’s suggestions.

So he waits, one eye on the clock and the other on the door, trying to look as innocent as he can manage. Not that Mats is paying any attention to him anyway since the ex-traitor is currently busy trying to get Marco to listen to his latest podcast.

As it turns out, Mats and Marco are not the only lunatics with the habit of arriving at the training center way earlier than necessary. In less than fifteen minutes, Marcel, Piszczu, Mario, Paco, and some of the staff fill the room, their chatters creating a nice background noise that is perfect for the operation. If he waits any longer, the younger guys will start to interrupt them or Marco will leave to talk to the trainers before the actual training like the nerd he is. 

Now it is show-time

“Mats, before I forget,” says Jule in between bites, another tip given by none other than Kai Havertz himself. “Can you give me Kepa something something’s phone number?”

Marco interferes before Mats can say anything in return. “Who the hell is Kepa something something?”

Jule rolls his eyes in return, because honestly, what kind of a question is this? “How many Kepas do you know exactly, Marco? I mean that Spanish dude, goalkeeper, plays in Chelsea?”

“Don’t roll your eyes like that, they’ll be stuck like that someday and then you’ll learn your lesson,” says Mats. _ Honestly, _ Jule thinks, _ 83 year-olds. _Only his grandpa would come up with answers like that.

“Fine, _ Opa, _” he says, with a hint of sarcasm that would make Kai kick him under the table for risking their great plan. “Well, I need that dude’s number, like, asap. It’s important.”

“Why do you need it anyway?”

He mentally high-fives himself once again, because everything is going in accordance with the plan. They knew that it’d be the first question Mats’d ask, and prepared the perfect answer that would require no follow-up question. “Kai needs it, it’s about his transfer I guess. I didn’t ask for details, cause, you know, we try not to talk about it.”

He even makes a sad puppy face, the one that people always accuse him of using for his advantage, like all the time. Considering everyone and their neighbors know that Kai will probably leave Germany in a few months, his teammates are likely to let him get away with stuff, automatically assuming that he’s depressed or having grown-up relationship problems.

(He is only sort of depressed for now, and no matter what happens, they won’t have any relationship problem because of some distance separating them. But his friends don’t have to know that yet.)

Marco is more than sensitive towards the subject of transfers and long-distance relationships, though. Which, of course, sucks for him, but today, Julian is not above using his captain’s personal issues to his benefit. 

_ The things we do for love. _Or whatever that Game of Thrones quote is.

“Just give the number to the kid, Mats. Obviously it is important,” says Marco, nudging Mats a little bit god knows why. They have their own methods of interacting without words, so it can mean anything from _ Don’t make me steal your phone and find the number myself _to _ Give the number and I will figure out the rest. _

“What makes you think that I have it? Am I the phonebook for Adidas people?”

Julian can’t figure out whether Mats is bluffing or not, but Kai told him not to push too hard himself and let Marco do the hard work. Right on time, Marco interferes again. “So you don’t have it, for real?”

“I don’t, I swear. What makes you think that I know Kepa? I don’t even know if I ever played against the dude or not, babe.”

Jule lets out a “Shit!!” that can easily be heard by anyone near them, but at the same time, Marco hisses a “Don’t call me _babe_,” at Mats, so he is safe.

So, much to Julian’s surprise, Plan A fails to accomplish. They will have to go back to the drawing board and come up with new plans, since he couldn’t find the almighty napkin and kinda forgot what their next steps were supposed to be. 

Honestly, if someone could guarantee him that Bernd wouldn’t kill him in retaliation, he would just slide into Kepa’s DMs and ask for his number without any shame.

Unfortunately, no one can guarantee such a thing when it comes to Bernd and his weird, emotional distance shit problems. They have to do this the hard way.

_ the things they do for love. _

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/Comments are always appreciated.
> 
> Come find me on [ Tumblr! ](https://berndlenhoe.tumblr.com/)


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